David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University of Liverpool and Cestrian Press has published his poetry collections First Cut (2012), Hiding in Shadows (2014) and Not Really a Stranger (due in May 2016).
His collection of Sonnets about the Easter Rising in Ireland in 1916 - A Terrible Beauty is also published this year. His blog can be found at:
SKATEBOARDING IN THE SQUARE
Skateboarding in the square
In front of the town hall
Clatter of wood on stone
Rattle of wheels on kerbs
Expletives shouted
In thrill and disappointment
Woollen hatted or hooded
Trainered, cigarette lipped
Shutting out a critical world.
Skateboarding in the square
Near the war memorial
Putting on a show
To a disinterested audience
Dodging around a crazy dog
And a fat guy on a bike
Killing time, stifling boredom
Denying all restriction
Struggling to maintain balance.
Skateboarding in the square
In all kinds of weather
Ignoring the sighs
Of inconvenienced shoppers
Colliding accidentally
With irritated pedestrians
Mumbling apologies
Ignoring curses
Skateboarding in the square.
**
TOO LATE
Too late now to think of global warming
As river waters rise to flood the plain
That once construction would not entertain
A wise safeguard against overflowing
But one abandoned without us knowing
For the sake of making financial gain
Affected by storms and torrential rain
The area of danger keeps growing.
Too late now for emergency pumping
The task has become considerable
Below ground wet foundations are crumbling
Salvation is quite unachievable
Let this sad disaster be a warning
To all who build on land so vulnerable.
**
THEY
They came only to check Facebook and Twitter
Teenage, skeletal, infectious of laughter
Big haired, pierced, some with tattoos
Shoulder bagged, trainered, bouncy of step
Oblivious to surrounding bookshelves
Or those searching through them.
They saw no reason to switch to ’Silent’
Ring tones enhanced their excitement
The most ridiculous evoking
The loudest reactions
'I'm sorry' said an apparition
Under a mass of curls
'But I think my phone is broken
I cannot switch it off
And they say that if I do
I may lose important data'
I struggle to look sympathetic
As she explodes into laughter.
They came only for warmth and Internet
For free connection to a virtual world
They neither borrowed nor returned
Any collection of paper
Their noisy confidence typical
Of those who own the future.
~David Subacchi
